


In Which A Shuttle Crashes

by KaelinaLovesLomaris



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7065199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelinaLovesLomaris/pseuds/KaelinaLovesLomaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on sparklight's Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn't Get Away, this is an AU of #6 of Vader Down.<br/>Instead of letting Luke go after bringing the shuttle down, Vader goes in to retrieve his son.<br/>It's technically a two-shot, with chapter 1 being from Luke's perspective and chapter 2 from Vader's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Luke's POV

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn't Get Away](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837094) by [sparklight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _should_ be working on the new chapter 1 of Allegiance, but this plot bunny attacked and I had to obey it.

“There he is!”

Luke spun around at the cry from behind him, raising his blaster as he did. A group of six stormtroopers had caught up with him and were now slowly trying to surround him. All of them had their blasters raised and pointed at him. He froze for a moment, their words registering in his mind. _There he is?_ They were looking for him specifically? That did not bode well.

“Drop the blaster. You’re coming with us.” The demand snapped Luke out of his shock and he raced back to the rock he had just passed, shooting into the middle of the group of stormtroopers as he did so. He heard one cry out as he was hit but did not look back to see how badly. He dodged behind the rock as blaster bolts filled the air. He returned fire over the rock, but was unable to aim very accurately as he ducked down quickly to avoid the shots aimed at him.

Luke cursed. They had him pinned down tightly. He couldn’t retreat without leaving the relative safety of the rock and risking being shot in the back. And he couldn’t dodge all the bolts _and_ target the stormtroopers at the same time. Unless… his hand strayed to his lightsaber clipped to his belt. He could deflect shots with the blade, like Ben had taught him with the remote on the _Millennium Falcon_ , and if he angled it correctly, the shots would ricochet back at the stormtroopers…

He had just decided to attempt it when the shots ceased abruptly, accompanied by harsh screams. Luke peered over the rock in time to see flames suddenly engulfing the stormtroopers. He crouched back down behind the rock as he caught a glimpse of the two droids he had encountered earlier. They were _still_ hunting him! But it appeared they were not working for the Empire, at least.

Luke jumped as his comlink crackled to life and Han’s voice reached him.

“Luke! Did you find Leia?! We have to get outta here, kid!”

“Don’t wait for me, Han!” He kept scanning his surroundings, wary of more stormtroopers or the droids’ handler showing up. “There are stormtroopers everywhere!”

“Stormtroopers?” Han’s voice was sharp with worry, audible even through the distortion of the comlink. “Luke, what’s happening? Where’s…”

A faint crunch of gravel behind him dragged his attention away from Han’s words, but before he could turn, something heavy connected with the back of his head, sending sharp pain and darkness through him. The last thing he heard as he was thrown into unconsciousness was Han frantically yelling his name.

~*~

Luke groaned as his mind clawed its way awake. Pain pounded through his head and the ground beneath him seemed to be tilting. He tried to open his eyes, but even the dim light around him stabbed right through him and his headache intensified. He quickly squeezed them shut again and he attempted to bring his hand up to his head, but as he moved he felt a tugging sensation on his other wrist and realized he was bound.

 _Stormtroopers, fire fight, Han, hit on the head…_ He traced his last memories through to their logical conclusion. _I’ve been captured by Imps. Sith!_

As this realization crashed over him and he worked his way past the post-unconsciousness confusion, he became more aware of his surroundings. He was sprawled on a cold metal floor, which was vibrating in sympathy with the quiet hum in the air. Engines. He was in a ship, probably an Imperial shuttle. On his way to… where? Interrogation and execution, definitely. But at whose hands? Darth Vader’s?

He suppressed a shudder of fear. His future was shaping up to be rather unpleasant, if short. He stilled as footsteps resonated through the floor. The toe of a boot found his side and he groaned again at the sharp prod.

“The boy’s awake.”

More footsteps and then hands seized his upper arms and he was wrenched to his feet. Luke was hit with a wave of nausea at the sudden motion. A concussion? He swayed on his feet, but the hands holding him were unyielding and he was not allowed to fall.

“Where are you taking me?” Luke’s voice was weaker than he had anticipated.

One of his guards struck him in the side of the head. He bit back a cry as agony burst in his head from the blow. He was now certain he had a concussion and cold dread crept up his spine as he realized that he was already physically and mentally compromised if they decided to torture him. He didn’t think it would take much to break him at this point.

_I’m sorry, Leia. I don’t think I’ll be as strong as you._

Then everything happened so quickly that Luke did not have time to react. There was an explosion and the shuttle shook violently. Luke and his guards were nearly knocked to the ground by the force of it, and terrified yells came from the cockpit behind them. The floor under his feet no longer vibrated from the hum of the engines. They were dead in the sky and they hung for a breathless moment before the nose of the shuttle dipped down and _they were crashing!_

His guards gripped his arms so tightly that it hurt, but Luke ignored them and tried to reach for the Force to… do what? Slow the descent? Brace himself? He didn’t have enough training! But as the shuttle plummeted back to the ground, his mind brushed against another presence, a knot of darkness wreathed in cold fire. It reached for him, surrounding him in flames that did not burn, and before Luke could even consider whether he wanted to try to break free, the shuttle crashed nose-first into the planet, listing to the left.

The force of the impact tore Luke from his captor’s grips and flung him across the compartment. He collided with the wall, taking the brunt of the hit with his shoulder, but as the ship settled, he was tossed around again and he banged his head on the durasteel floor. His headache flared and darkness flickered in his mind. He teetered on the edge of awareness and for a moment he contemplated giving in to the sleep that beckoned him with gentle fingers.

Luke was pulled back through the haze in his mind when he heard the guards beginning to stir. He tried to focus on their murmured words, but they were merely seeking and receiving confirmation that they were all still alive. It appeared they were content to ignore him for the moment and he began to tune them out, but then he heard the cockpit door slide open behind him.

“The command crew is dead,” one of the guards informed his colleagues.

“What the kriff happened?”

“I don’t know. Something went wrong with the engine.”

“The tech crews went over every inch of this shuttle before we came planetside. How could they have missed something this big?”

Whoever the question was directed at was spared from answering by the sound of metal rending and screeching against itself. There was a startled yell from one of the guards and Luke tried to lift his head to get a better view of what was happening, but the world spun dizzyingly at his slightest movement and he gave up. It wouldn’t make a difference if he knew what was coming or not. He didn’t have the strength to react, regardless if it was friend or foe.

The cold fire was drawing closer, pressing more intently against his mind. He poked at it in confusion, but it did not seem to register his touch, or maybe he was so weak and unfocused that he hadn’t actually nudged it at all.

This time the yell was mingled shock and fear.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Luke started at the sound of a lightsaber being ignited and he curled up in a futile effort to protect himself. His head throbbed and his nausea spiked at the movement. Now the cold fire made sense and he was painfully aware of the measured mechanical breathing that should have been obvious from the moment Darth Vader had entered the shuttle. Heavy footsteps reverberated through the durasteel floor, bringing the Sith closer.

The clash of lightsaber against force pike filled the air, the fight lasting no more than a few seconds before Luke somehow _felt_ two of the guards die, the cessation of life a sickening tug on the fabric of the Force. Hands grasped at Luke’s arms, attempting to pull him back, but Vader’s voice stopped them before the remaining guards could move him.

“Do not touch him.” The baritone was cold and filled with a sharp rage that pierced Luke with fear, even though he could sense that it was not directed at him.

Luke tried to look up as he heard Vader stalk forward, the bloodthirsty hum of the lightsaber getting louder, screaming a warning at him, but he couldn’t force his eyes open. The guards released him and though Luke thought he should feel relief at that, he felt nothing but a cold knot of dread settle low in his stomach. The dark fire was steadily drawing closer but he aborted any movement away as his definitely concussed head protested.

Vader’s presence was right above him and he flinched as heavy fabric brushed against his legs and side. He was not able to suppress the small cry of pain the motion produced and the cold fire that was Vader surrounded his mind, seemingly in response to his cry. It cut him off from the pain and he was finally able to open his eyes.

Darth Vader stood over him, one leg on either side of his body in a clearly protective stance. Confusion and terror mingled freely in Luke’s mind as two quick flashes of the blood-red blade brought down the two remaining guards. For a breathless moment, the lightsaber continued humming and Luke almost hoped for it to slice downwards at him, killing him quickly and relatively painlessly.

But the deathblow never came and Luke shuddered as the lightsaber deactivated. The Sith was going to _take him alive_. He knew the bounty on the pilot who destroyed the Death Star was alive only, but he had hoped, prayed, that they had not yet identified him. And as far as he knew, the bounty was still nameless. So why was the Emperor’s enforcer taking him alive?

Vader took half a step back so both his legs were on the same side of Luke before he crouched down next to him.

“No…” Luke’s plea came out as more of a whimper as he tried to slide away, still weak from too many hits to the head today and unable to sit up, even if whatever Vader was doing to his mind was easing the pain.

Vader reached out and grasped Luke’s arm, preventing him from even attempting to move away. Luke continued to pull against his grip, refusing to give up without a fight, no matter how feeble that fight may be.

“Please, no,” Luke gasped, hating the desperation he could hear in his own voice. “Just kill me now.”

“You think I want to kill you?” There was dry amusement in Vader’s voice. “If I wanted you dead, I would have let the Red Guards drag you to the Emperor.”

Why did Vader not want him taken to the Emperor? He was the Emperor’s Second-in-Command, his chief enforcer. Was he not as loyal as everyone seemed to think? Or did he just want to get information out of him before he was executed as a Rebel? But wouldn’t the Emperor have him interrogated too? Too many questions swarmed Luke’s mind and he pushed them away, knowing that finding out the answers to most of them would mean his death.

“I’m not worth taking. I won’t tell you anything,” Luke tried again. He remembered the pain on Leia’s face whenever she recalled her “interrogation” at Vader’s hands and he could not help the shudder of fear that passed through him.

“Wrong again. You are far too important to destroy, either physically or mentally.” There was something in Vader’s tone that surprised Luke even more than the words themselves, something almost… _fond_? _Caring_? He couldn’t place the exact emotion, but whatever it was, it was very out of place in the Dark Lord. The cold fire surrounding his mind became soft and it somehow seemed to caress him in a way that vaguely reminded him of his aunt carefully brushing his hair off his forehead as she tucked him in at night. The juxtaposition shocked Luke enough that he stopped fighting and Vader lost no time in taking advantage of his lapse. He stood, pulling an unresisting Luke up with him.

Luke stumbled, his legs unable to support him, and he fell against Vader. The Sith caught him, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him up. He recoiled, or tried to, but Vader’s grip on him was firm and Luke was still too dizzy to put up enough of a fight.

“Let go of me!” he demanded.

“If I release you, Skywalker, you will fall.” Again, there was amusement in Vader’s voice. Luke started at the use of his name.

“I don’t care.” He tried to cover his sudden surge of terror with bravado. They had identified him. How had they identified him? Did the Rebellion have a traitor, or had someone just sold him out for the large bounty on his head?

Luke struggled in Vader’s arms, pushing against his chest with his bound hands, but the man was as unmovable as a durasteel wall. He sensed what felt like laughter from the Sith and he cursed the helplessness of the situation he had found himself in.

“What do you want with me?” he cried.

“You will find out soon enough,” came Vader’s cryptic and terrifying response. He withdrew a hypospray from a pouch on his belt and Luke reared back.

“No, no, no…”

_Please just kill me, just kill me now, don’t take me in…_

“Calm down, my son.”

Luke froze at Vader’s words, unable to believe what he had heard.

“What?” he whispered, staring up at Vader’s mask. He had stopped fighting and though Vader made no move to inject him with whatever was in the hypospray, he did use the moment to pull Luke closer again. Luke found himself pressed against Vader, his hands trapped between them.

“I’m not your son. You killed my father, you _murdered_ him!” He had meant to sound confident and accusing, but it came out as pleading, begging for confirmation. But he knew his words were lies as soon as they crossed his lips. They tasted bitter on his tongue and the Force trembled around him. He managed to deny it, to cling hopelessly to his childhood vision of his father who was _not_ this black-clad Sith in front of him, for one moment longer before the man spoke again.

“No, child, I did not.” Vader’s quiet words shattered his fragile hopes like glass and he knew he had lost.

Luke finally surrendered. He was tired, and sore, and confused, and the Sith’s hold on him was unyielding. He slumped into Vader’s arms and leaned his head against his armoured chest, no longer having the strength to resist.

“No, no, it’s not true…” He continued to mutter his denials even as the Force screamed the truth at him, but they were just words and he did not struggle when he felt Vader press the hypospray against his neck and inject him with whatever drug was in it. Sleep would be a welcome escape at this point.

“I did not kill your father, Luke. I _am_ your father.” Vader’s voice was gentle and Luke heard the truth resonate in his words. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt a bright thread spark into existence, a thread that connected his mind to Vader’s. He drew in a shaky breath, fighting against the lump that was forming in his throat. He grasped at the heavy fabric of his father’s cloak where his hands rested against it and turned his head to bury his face in Vader’s chest. He could feel the drug working its way through him, numbing his limbs and his mind, and he was unable to stop the tears from welling in his eyes. Tears of pain and confusion and grief and, oddly enough, happiness.

Vader’s hand that was not at his waist came up and rested lightly on the back of Luke’s head, fingers running gently through his hair. The motion was soothing and Luke felt the last of the tension drain from his body, though whether that was from his father’s actions or the drug he wasn’t sure.

The heavy blanket of sleep reached to envelop him and he surrendered to it willingly, feeling his body go limp in his father’s strong arms before his mind chased the drug into darkness.


	2. Vader's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's Vader's perspective on this!

Vader looked up at the Lambda class shuttle as it flew closer. He could feel Luke’s bright Force presence moving in tandem with it, and knew that this was the ship Aphra had seen the guards dragging the boy onto.

“No.” They would not take his son from him, not when he was so close!

He reached towards the shuttle with the Force, finding the fuel cells in the engine and rupturing them with the tightening of his fist. Explosions tore through the engine as the fuel combusted and the shuttle instantly began to plummet back to the planet, nose first.

Luke reached out into the Force, flailing as though he were trying to find something to hold onto. Vader responded instinctively, surrounding his son’s presence with his own in a gesture of parental protection that surprised even him.

He watched impassively as the shuttle crashed, sending gentle prods through the Force to guide it down in a way that would not endanger anyone in the passenger compartment. He would never be able to forgive himself if, while attempting to save his son’s life, he accidentally killed him.

_It seems, in your anger, you killed her._

Vader shook off the memory. He would not make the same mistake twice. Luke _would not_ die at his hand. Although he was beginning to doubt he had actually killed his wife. She must have survived long enough to give birth to Luke after their… conversation.

Someone had lied.

The shuttle impacted with a loud _crash_ and sent up a thick cloud of sand and dust. Its momentum propelled it along the ground for several dozen meters, leaving a long scar in the sand on the planet’s surface. Nothing that a mild sandstorm could not fix.

He felt a brief moment of panic as Luke’s presence wavered and dimmed, but it continued to burn with life and power, an unfocused nova of light. He was alive but unconscious, if the intensity was anything to go by.

As soon as the shuttle had stopped sliding, Vader leapt off the rock outcropping he had been standing on. The bedrock under the sand he landed on _cracked_ under the impact, but his durasteel legs absorbed the shock before it reached his actual flesh. Vader stalked forward, feeling the guards beginning to stir inside the shuttle. So all four of them had survived. Unfortunate. He flicked his awareness briefly to the cockpit but felt no life. The command crew must have perished. He had been too focused on Luke to notice their deaths, but this would only make his job easier.

Vader approached the crashed shuttle, again locating his son’s Force presence. Even as he monitored it, it blossomed back to its full strength as his son came back around. He must have only been dazed.

He stared at the downed ship, considering the best way to get to Luke. The boarding ramp was buried in the sand and inaccessible without shifting the entire shuttle with the Force. That was completely possible, but would take too much time and effort and he could not guarantee that the upheaval would not injure Luke further. He could easily carve a door with his lightsaber, but that would also take time and without being able to pinpoint Luke’s exact location he risked burning him. A nuisance that would surely resolve itself once the link was mutual. Tearing one of the side panels away would be the quickest and most efficient method of gaining access.

The durasteel offered very little resistance to his brute strength applied through the Force. It tore easily, with the shrieking sound of rending metal. Vader tossed the twisted piece of durasteel aside with a dispassionate flick of his wrist and entered the shuttle through the new gaping hole in the side. His mask immediately compensated for the drastic change in lighting and his eyes found Luke, curled up on his side near the wall. His hands were bound in front of him and his eyes were closed tightly in an expression of pain. He was still wearing his gaudy orange flight suit. The Rebels deserved to be eradicated simply for their fashion choices.

Vader did not have long to contemplate his son, as one of the Red Guards yelled at him, dragging his attention back to the small but real threat they posed.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

He ignited his lightsaber in response and did not miss the tremor of fear that ran through Luke’s bright presence. He pushed it aside and focused on the two guards that were now rushing him, force pikes humming with electricity.

It quickly became obvious that these were _not_ the Emperor’s highly trained Red Guards and he batted them aside effortlessly. He was slightly disappointed with the lack of resistance he received. He could have used an outlet for his rage. But it was mollifying to learn that the Emperor had given Karbin what were probably mediocre stormtroopers dressed in Red Guard uniforms instead of true Guards.

The remaining two guards, who had been hovering behind Luke, now moved to grab his son. It was a pointless gesture as there was nowhere for them to run. Vader blocked the only exit. But the sight of their hands on his son fueled his anger.

“Do not touch him,” he growled, raising his lightsaber again and pointing it at them. Luke’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice and he winced at the movement. His eyes were still closed. What was wrong with him?

The guards released Luke and retreated as Vader prowled towards them. But they seemed wary of straying too far away from the Emperor’s prize and only took a few steps back. It was only then that he realized they planned to do whatever was necessary to prevent _him_ from taking Luke alive. Their intentions towards Luke burned dark in their minds. His realization that these men were more loyal to Karbin than the Emperor was eclipsed by his sudden panic. Terror spiked in him and quickly turned into fury. They _would not_ kill his son!

Vader stepped over Luke and hovered above him with one foot on either side of the boy, shielding him with his body. Luke flinched at his proximity and cried out in pain from the motion. Vader reached for Luke’s mind in the Force and the boy’s pain and nausea crashed over him. He must have hit his head hard enough to cause a concussion. Vader felt a brief flicker of guilt. Had he been injured in the crash?

Vader surrounded his son’s mind with his own presence and blocked the pain as best he could. It seemed to work, as Luke stirred and Vader felt his eyes on him. All of this had happened in the space of two cycles of his respirator and he focused back on the guards. They were still reluctant to move away and they hovered within blade’s reach of Luke. Their mistake.

He lashed out quickly, his lightsaber tasting blood before either guard could react and the second one was dead before the first even hit the floor. He deactivated his lightsaber and, oddly enough, the action only served to _increase_ Luke’s fear. A quick brush of his mental fingers against Luke’s mind revealed why. He was terrified of being taken alive.

_So willing to die for your misguided ideals,_ he thought dryly. He gave a mental sigh and stepped back before crouching down next to his son. Luke immediately twitched away from him and a tiny whimper escaped his lips as Vader took hold of his arm. He tugged weakly at his arms, trying to pull away but his efforts barely registered against Vader’s durasteel grip.

“Please, no,” Luke begged. “Just kill me now.” His eyes were wide as he stared up at Vader. He somehow managed to find Vader’s eyes despite the mask and it was an uncomfortable feeling, having someone directly meet his gaze for the first time in twenty years. Even his Master was never so accurate.

“You think I want to kill you?” he finally replied to the boy’s absurd request. “If I wanted you dead, I would have let the Red Guards drag you to the Emperor.”

_Or let them kill you themselves. Apparently if Karbin could not be the one to present you to the Emperor, they would not have allowed anyone else to either._

Vader felt half a dozen questions flit through Luke’s mind at this statement. The first thing he would have to teach his son was how to shield, or he would not survive a _day_ on Imperial Center.

“I’m not worth taking. I won’t tell you anything.” Luke made a second incorrect guess.

“Wrong again. You are far too important to destroy, either physically or mentally.” The thought of interrogating his own son made Vader slightly sick. He would _never_ hurt him, not intentionally. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he caressed Luke’s mind, just a gentle brush of calming reassurance.

Shock coursed through Luke’s body like a stun bolt and his resistance fell away. Vader used the moment to stand and pull Luke to his feet with him. His son’s legs gave out as soon as he put weight on them and Vader caught him around the waist as he collapsed against him. Luke made one useless attempt to break free of his hold.

“Let go of me!” There were currents of anger in Luke’s tone, under the fear, and his voice was surprisingly strong compared to earlier. He had a Skywalker temper, then. The child was truly his.

“If I release you, Skywalker, you will fall.” He smiled at Luke’s startled response to the use of his surname. But the boy rallied quickly.

“I don’t care.” Apparently his son’s stubborn pride was stronger than his sense of self-preservation, another trait he shared with his father.

Luke shoved at his chest, again struggling against Vader’s hold. His efforts were met with no success and Vader found a grim amusement in his son’s rising frustration. Finally being this close to his son after so much time spent chasing him was deeply satisfying and his untainted Force presence was intoxicating. He found himself continually drawn to it, unable to resist the unfamiliar urge to bask in that Light. Now that he had the child, he was never letting him go.

“What do you want from me?” Luke cried, finally giving in to his raging curiosity and asking one of the questions he had been trying to deny.

“You will find out soon enough,” Vader replied. This was neither the place nor the time to discuss such an important topic. He needed to move Luke safely to his ship first. Several lifeforms were closing in on the shuttle, most likely Luke’s Rebel friends, and although they would pose no challenge to him and he would normally have no qualms about disposing of them, he preferred not to destroy his chances of winning Luke’s loyalty.

He reached into a pouch on his belt with his free hand and withdrew a hypospray filled with a strong sedative. It would be the easiest and safest way to transport Luke.

Luke’s eyes widened in fear as he caught sight of the hypospray and leaned as far away from Vader as he could, redoubling his efforts to break free.

“No, no, no…” he pleaded. His thoughts were screaming at Vader, begging for death rather than capture. The boy’s fear poisoned his mind, darkening his Force presence in a way that made Vader slightly uncomfortable.

Luke needed to know.

“Calm down, my son,” Vader said softly. His words had an immediate effect and Luke froze in his arms. His lips moved in a clear question, but he made no sound or else it was too soft to reach Vader’s ears. Vader took advantage of Luke’s distraction and pulled him closer again, eliminating the small space between them that Luke had won with his struggles.

“I’m not your son,” Luke hissed, finally finding his voice. “You killed my father, you _murdered_ him!” It was not so much an accusation as a question.

“No, child, I did not.” It must have been Obi-Wan who had fed him those lies. No one else would have.

All the fight went out of Luke. He leaned in to Vader, dropping his head against his chest and letting him support his negligible weight. His voice was small and hopeless as he murmured meaningless denials to himself. Vader gave him a moment to accept the truth, to at least begin to process it, before he lifted the hypospray to his son’s neck and injected the drug into his bloodstream.

“I did not kill your father, Luke. I _am_ your father.” The Force shivered in agreement with his words and he knew Luke felt it. His end of their bond lit up as Luke’s awareness blossomed and his dormant half of it sparked to life. The two threads reached for each other and connected seamlessly, cementing Luke’s acceptance of the truth.

The sedative worked quickly and Vader could feel Luke slipping slowly into its grip. His son clutched at him, tangling his hands in the edge of his cloak, and he turned his head to press his forehead against Vader’s chest. His breath was shaky with emotion and some primal, parental instinct prompted Vader to comfort him. He reached up and gently touched the back of Luke’s head, running his gloved fingers through his hair. And surprisingly, Luke relaxed into his touch, the last of his resistance melting away.

The drug finally overwhelmed Luke and he went limp in Vader’s arms, lost to the tight embrace of sleep. Vader allowed himself to relax. His son could no longer escape him, and he had accepted the truth. Hopefully that would make him easier to manage when he woke in his new quarters on the _Devastator_.

He adjusted his grip, sliding his left arm up so it supported Luke just below the shoulder blades instead of the waist and leaned the boy back so he could get a better look at his face. One of Luke’s hands was still entangled in the edge of his cloak, though his grip had slackened. It was such a childlike thing, clinging to a parent’s clothing for support, that Vader was simultaneously aware of just how young Luke was, and yet how much of his son’s life he had missed. His anger at the Emperor and Obi-Wan flared again. How _dare_ they conceal his son’s existence from him? Obi-Wan was already dead, and far too quickly now that Vader knew the extent of his wrongs against him, but the Emperor was still alive. The Emperor could, and would, still pay.

Luke twitched in unconsciousness, no doubt feeling the anger radiating from Vader, and the Sith forced his emotions back under control. He raised his free hand and traced the boy’s face with his fingertips, hardly daring to touch. His nose was the exact shape _hers_ had been, though the chin was all Anakin. His blue eyes and dark blond hair were Anakin’s as well, though Vader could really only guess at the color through the red tint of his mask.

This boy was their son, Vader had no doubts. And he was _strong_ , if ridiculously untrained. The latter would be fixed quickly and Vader felt a fierce rush of pleasure at the thought of training his own son. The boy was… he would be 20 now, and while it was too late for Vader to give him the childhood he had deserved, he would make sure that Luke would want for nothing. Indeed, Vader could offer him the Galaxy, because together, they would be strong enough to destroy the Emperor and take his place.

He glanced around the compartment and found Luke’s, his, lightsaber clipped to one of the Red Guards’ belts. He called it to his free hand and held it for a moment, savoring the feel of the familiar hilt in his grip again. If Obi-Wan had not given this lightsaber to Luke, Vader might have accidentally killed the boy on Cymoon-1. It was the sight of the familiar weapon that had stayed his hand and the distraction it provided had given the Rebels time to interfere and allow Luke’s escape. But any gratitude Vader might have felt towards Obi-Wan for this was eclipsed by his festering anger at his former master’s betrayal.

_I would not have needed my old lightsaber to identify my son if he had not stolen him from me! I would not have nearly killed him multiple times._

Vader snarled wordlessly, letting his anger wash over him, strengthening his connection to the Dark Side. It had been a long time since he had felt this much raw power coursing through him. It had been a long time since he had felt this _alive_.

Luke shrank away from him, trying to turn away and, even in unconsciousness, his bright Force presence started to close itself off. Vader again reined in his emotions, with more difficulty this time after surrendering so fully to them, and realized that they had lingered here for far too long. He needed to find Aphra and contact his Star Destroyer. Now that both his TIE and Aphra’s ship had crashed, he had no way off this cursed planet. But his Captain was trustworthy enough. Piett could be counted on to send a shuttle for him, discreetly.

Securing his hold under Luke’s back, he bent down and slid his other arm behind his son’s knees. He hefted the boy into his arms and was momentarily surprised by how light he was. Certainly, he was short and slender, clearly taking after _her_ with his body type, but his bulky flight suit must have masked just how thin he was. Still such a child.

Luke shifted in Vader’s arms and he tightened his grip on his son as a single word brushed against his mind from the newly awakened link.

_“Father.”_


End file.
